


Plan A

by wings128



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Chair Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wings128/pseuds/wings128
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two reunited flyboys and one hotel room…sure sounds like a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plan A

**Author's Note:**

> Challenge: Writing Meme – include five words starting with the letter “ **N** ”  
>  **Nude, November, Narcissist, Navy, Necessary** – chosen by j_r_hartley 
> 
> This scenario is the result of a conversation with ignemferam and due to interference from certain flyboys, has varied somewhat during its creation. Hope you enjoy anyway.

It had started as a groping session in the Mustang’s confined space, with both gearshift and parking break hindering their advances, and was followed by more groping, heavy breathing and needy kisses as they rode the elevator, instead of each other, to Cam’s hotel room. 

Checking for security surveillance hadn’t been **necessary** , unless it had been installed since that morning, when John, despite Cam’s reassurances, had done his habitual recon on arrival at the not-quite-four-star hotel the air force had put them up in.

They’d continued down the hallway of identical cream doors with their not-gold numbers glinting in the muted yellow light; John suckling the patch of skin hidden by the collar of Cam’s **navy** cotton shirt, that John’s skilled fingertips were insistently tugging out of his way.

“Door,” Cam uttered on a moan as he arched his neck into the touch, both because he just _had_ to, and to prevent the first button cutting off his airway as John continued to tug.

Cam just had to get the card to slide through the slot. John had a similar idea, only it was his dick doing the sliding and grinding against Cam’s ass. If only he could get his hands to stop shaking long enough to get the damn door open. This’d feel so much better when they were both **nude**.

“Ah huh!” The electronic chirrup that heralded Cam’s success was lost in the sensation of John’s hot breath as the other colonel reached a long arm over the jut of Cam’s hip to click the handle down and open.

Cam was shoved hard against the back of the barely closed door and John growled impatiently as his fingers grappled with the ridiculously tiny buttons that prevented him from touching skin.

“Damn,” John muttered and dived into the willing heat of Cam’s waiting mouth. “Wear a damn tee, next time,” each word punctuated with a quick look at his non-progress before kissing Cam again.

Cam was no **narcissist** but it was so rare that they got this. He’d wanted to wear something nice; something with a collar and buttons, which considering the current situation, hadn’t been his greatest move.

“Can I?” John asked from behind Cam’s left ear where those lips of his were sending shockwaves of heat south of the border, and Cam couldn’t hold back an embarrassingly needy moan. 

His hips thrust helplessly up and tight against the deliciously hard length of John’s cock, trapped in unrelenting black denim. “Yeah, what the hell, do it!” 

Buttons had pinged and fabric had torn before he’d finished speaking, but John’s hands felt fucking awesome as they traced over new scars and brushed the soft rasp of chocolate coloured hair low on Cam’s belly. 

“Hey,” he whispered when John was finally close enough for Cam to taste.

He’d missed this; missed the scent of John, the feel of John under his hands. He’d mourned the loss of the other colonel’s physical presence filling in the empty spaces of his life, since John’d shipped out with Dr Weir’s expedition two years ago.

“You too!” Cam growled, eyed the offensive black tee that barred his way to John’s lean hair-swathed chest, cupped the flat of his palms over sweet tight curves and yanked. 

It kinda slowed things down, prevented John from obeying – not that John obeyed many orders anyway. But Cam couldn’t bear being separated from John by any measurement, even with the unveiling of naked skin as incentive. 

John chuckled, “you need’a let go.”

“Never,” he whispered almost too quietly for acknowledgement, but his lover’s hazel-gold eyes darkened with recognition.

“Yeah, same,” Cam watched John’s throat work around a hard swallow that followed the declaration and laughed with happiness as he pushed John towards the chair in the corner.

“Boots off, flyboy, I want me some lovin’.”

The look on John’s face was priceless, and made Cam shape his palms to stubbled jaw, and press his lips to a mouth that immediately fell open in hot wet submission. He swallowed John’s welcoming plea of a groan and tasted sweet promise as he suckled teasingly on the tip of John’s playful tongue. 

“Get ‘em off, Colonel,” Cam grinned, it sounded embarrassingly like begging but he didn’t care, “that’s an order.”

John’s _yes sir_ as he thumbed the metal buttons of his jeans, pushed them and his boxers down to his knees, and sat down to unlace his boots, sounded to Cam like the dirtiest sexiest fucking come on in the history of smokin’ hot flyboy sex. Cam’s fingers were finally on board with the plan and had stopped shaking but he still couldn’t get his clothes off fast enough!

“Cam.” It was whispered soft, almost desperate and the sound of his name in John’s drawl would always make him feel like he was home.

He yanked his foot free from the hem of his jeans and let John tug him down, those hands bit so sweetly into his hips; their touch welcome and exactly as Cam remembered. They held him, prevented him from moving, ‘like he had anywhere else to be.’

He circled down, ground against hot hard flesh and grinned when John moaned into the space between them; only to offer his own in return at the feel of devious exploring fingertips pressing teasingly at his hole.

“Oh, yeah,” he wanted that. It’d been so fucking long and John’s fingers, John’s dick, his hard shaft were so much more fulfilling than his own fingers would ever be.

Cam reached between, gripped both of them in his fist, started a slow-hand slide and squeeze that had John thrusting into the skilled tightness, lifting Cam enough that their skin slapped when Cam landed back in the cradle of John’s hips.

“Missed…this…”

“Damn…straight…flyboy,” Cam guided and thrust his cock through their shared precome that coated his white-knuckled fist and felt nothing but longing and bliss, “damn… _straight!”_

John chuckled scorching breath over the painfully hard nub of Cam’s nipple then sawed it with his teeth before moving to the other.

‘ _Jesus,_ Mary and… _so_ good!’ Cam’s free hand tangled in the wild black silkiness of John’s hair, held him tight, encouraged the contact as he sped up his strokes. 

“No!” John gasped urgently as he pulled free of Cam’s grip, shook his head before he rested his forehead against Cam’s. “Gotta be in you.”

Cam couldn’t’ve helped the full body shudder John’s husky words invoked if his life had depended on it. Just the thought of feeling hard, rigid heat filling him, stretching his ring to burning, splitting him open. John’s hands anchoring his hips, holding him helpless as that cock branded him John’s, had Cam on the edge of coming. It was what he wanted too; more than his next breath, but getting his fist to cease its rhythm long enough to make things happen, was too much. It was John’s fingers around his wrist that finally managed to still him.

“Easy.”

He felt the chain of John’s tags beneath his fingers as his hand was guided from their cocks to rest around that neck and John devoured his lips, suckled kisses that left his lower lip swollen. Little nips that sparked nerves and twitched his cock between their bellies as that talented tongue teased and liquefied what was left of Cam’s brain, into a puddle in the base of his skull.

John had two fingers nudging Cam’s hole, asking permission that Cam thought he’d already given, that auspicious **November** two years back. ‘Why was it he could remember _that_ , but he couldn’t form the words to tell John to _hurry the hell up!_?’

With that freaky gene of his John must’ve heard him, because John’s fingers were suddenly buried base-knuckle deep and stretching inside him. It felt good, damn good, so much better than when he did it himself. He could never quiet reach the right spot and the awkwardness of the position he ended up in did nothing to help things along – just left him frustrated and pissed off.

He was panting embarrassingly, sweat trickled down his spine and John’s fingers had grazed the spot enough times to drive him into frustrated begging. Enough was enough, he wanted John’s cock inside him, _rightthehellnow!_

“Please.” He looked into the fire of those eyes, oh how he’d fallen for those eyes, even before John had opened his mouth.

“Fuck, Cam!” John cursed on a breathy exhale.

“That’s…the…whole…idea…flyboy.” 

Cam barked a laugh that evaporated in surprise when John pulled his fingers free. Grief-stricken at the loss, Cam could feel the sharp thudding pulse of his gaping ring as it tried to grip something, anything. Such a dirty, needy emptiness that hungered to be filled, filled with the sweet relentless dominant slide of his long-absent lover’s cock.

He raised himself, felt the strain in his quads, relished the burn that meant he’d be paying for it later and pulled his ass open; held his cheeks with fingertips gone white with the pressure of his grip. The pleasure-pain tugging on his waiting hole dragged a groan so deep with southern drawl that he didn’t recognise it as his own, and forced his hips into a thrust that rubbed his cock against John’s taut abs.

“ _Jesus,_ Cam!” John’s breath punched out his lungs at the sight of Cam losing it, “now, fuck, now!”

He could feel the moist velvet kiss of John’s cock and moaned unashamedly as his hole eagerly sucked the head inside; enveloped the invader and yielded to the harsh tight fullness he’d craved for so long.

John watched Cam’s face, watched for any hint of pain in his stunning blue eyes as he slid slowly deep inside the one guy, the one lover, who’d managed to stick around long enough for John to imagine it being more. He watched; watched every twitch and shudder of his fellow colonel’s abs, he watched Cam arch his neck in offering as he pulled his ass impossibly wider to give John’s hips more room.

Finally Cam was in his lap, cheeks curved perfectly into John’s hips. The slight prickle of hair rasped against his thighs as Cam circled his own hips in an effort to get more of John. He was buried deep and snug and tight; cocooned in the rippling heat of Cam’s ass and it was fucking perfect!

“This only works if you actually move, Colonel,” John chuckled huskily when Cam dropped his forehead into the hollow of John’s shoulder and neck.

“I dunno, s’workin’ pretty good so far,” came the muffled reply. Cam had executed short test lifts with each word and John had shaped his palms to Cam’s hipbones, steadied each movement.

“Only gets better,” John grunted and jerked his hips while holding Cam in place.

It was like flipping the detonator and having C4 go off in your face; Cam felt John graze the spot inside him and had to hang on to strong shoulders while his vision whited out at the corners.

He turned his head, nibbled the very top of John’s Vulcan-pointed ear, “ _damn_ , baby!”

John thrust again, twice, hard and quick before Cam could capture a breath, and smirked his cocky flyboy grin, the one that never failed to turn Cam’s knees to jello. “More?”

“I’ll take it from here, Colonel,” Cam straightened up, weighing down and arching before hauling up.

“Yes, s-sir,” John stuttered and slid one splayed hand up the length of Cam’s thigh, while the other supported the small of his lover’s back.

John thrust up to meet each of Cam’s grinds, scraping Cam closer to the edge. Their tags clinked between their sweaty chests, hot panted breath ghosted over sensitive skin as they sought every touch, every taste, every possible way in which to be one.

All Cam was aware of, all he could sense as he slammed down on the increasingly harder cock wedged deep in his insatiable ass, was John. John was here, John was chanting Cam’s name on a ragged loop, muffled it into the scar on Cam’s shoulder, then fed it into the wet heat of open mouth. Rubbed it into him with each sliding twist over the head of his own desperately ready cock as they dragged each other closer, nearer the edge; both craving the inevitable fall into bliss.

Cam felt John tense, every muscle and tendon in that hot lanky body pulling tight in on itself and he increased his erratic rhythm. ‘And, yeah, there it was!’

Lightning struck low in his spine, radiating out, curling his toes, weakening his knees and sparking his balls till he was jerking and spitting hot cream over John’s hand, matting his come with black hair on spasming abs.

“Cam!”

He knew John was in the throes of his own long-denied release, he felt heat filling him, flooding deep into a place where only John could reach; but he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes just then, not until he heard John asking him to. He’d do anything for John.

‘Damn, coming made John’s eyes even more fucking amazing,’ he’d forgotten that. ‘How’d he forgotten that?’ He chided himself and leaned forward to kiss each one of John’s now-closed eyelids in turn, before trailing over John’s lips, coaxing them open with teasing flicks that had John moaning and reaching for him, banishing the space between their heaving sweaty torsos. 

“Fuck, I missed you,” John swore against Cam’s neck while he allowed Cam to hold him close. A sure sign that his confession held truth, more in fact, than Cam had ever expected to hear. 

“There’s a bit of that goin’ on here in the Milky Way too,” Cam murmured as he cradled John’s jaw in his hands and tilted his dark-haired lover’s face so he could see the afternoon sun’s reflection glinting in those eyes. “How long?”

John sighed and tried to turn away but Cam kept him still, held his gaze, kept the connection freshly renewed after long separation. 

“Eight days, report to the SGC, Monday, zero eight hundred,” John answered, his tone plummeting even as his fingers scribed slow cautious circles into Cam’s hip.

“A _whole_ eight days,” Cam smirked, “got any plans while you’re in town, colonel?”

The return of John’s good humour was obvious in the flash of want in his dilated pupils and the upward tug of his mouth. 

“A few,” he answered and steadied Cam as he dismounted onto rubbery uncoordinated legs. 

“Yeah?” Cam couldn’t help the shadow of doubt that laced his attempt to sound neutral, “any include me?”

John pulled him in tight and Cam automatically wrapped his arms around the lean lines of the other colonel’s flanks.

“All of them,” John whispered against Cam’s lips, “room service, you and that nice soft-looking bed,” he smirked and nodded his chin over Cam’s shoulder.

“Chair sex too rough on ya, old man?” Cam teased, even as he felt the beginnings of complaints from his own joints.

“No,” John drawled and Cam felt heat swirl low in his belly at the devilish gleam in his lover’s eyes, “but plan A is to bend your legs back and tongue-fuck this sweet little hole of yours till you come.”

Cam gulped and wriggled back onto the two fingers John was circling around the very edge of Cam’s well-fucked, slick and gaping hole.

“Sounds like plan F,” he grinned and let John guide him back toward that nice soft-looking bed.


End file.
